


Make Like Matt Martin and Leaf

by grainyangel



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: But they try, I mean they are really bad at talking and like I know I wrote it but its kind of excruciating, M/M, nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnoo plot whatsoever just lots of quiet contemplation and a fateful phone call, they are bad at talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 09:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15191972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grainyangel/pseuds/grainyangel
Summary: “Hey, Matty,” Mitch said.“Yeah?”“I, uh, I miss you, I guess.”-Matt got traded.Feelings are amplified in the night.Also, he hurt his hand and he's in a bad mood.





	Make Like Matt Martin and Leaf

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a post on tumblr and had a feeling about it.

Matt didn’t hold it against the Leafs. He’d been in the league long enough to know better. He knew about the business aspect of the whole show. That’s what it was after all. A show. A business. A machine. That made him a piece. A pawn. Whatever. Players got traded all the time. This wasn’t even his first time. It had taken him a while to figure out how he felt about the fact that he not only was moving on, he was going back. Back to New York. At a certain point, he’d decided he didn’t really care to think about it too hard. He didn’t hold a grudge against Toronto. He’d loved Toronto. He still loved Toronto. For a couple of years, that had been home. And being a Maple Leaf had been special. It had felt right. He’d felt good there. Something special was brewing there. And the team. He’d loved the team. And Mitch Marner, that little asshole. 

Anyway. He got it. The league was more than just play. It was numbers. He wasn’t the kind of guy the Leafs needed anymore. He’d done his job. He’d beat a path forward for the rookies. Literally. He’d looked out for the new guys, the little guys. Little guys like Mitch. And the little shit had gone and grown on him. Asshole. But they’d been looking for something else, and they’d found that something, and Matt was sent on his merry way, back where he came from. 

Matt was sitting in his apartment above the city. He wasn’t in a very good mood.  
Moving is easier when you get to play. Throwing yourself into work, into training. That’s what had helped him the other time. This time too. Matt had been ready. Ready to do something. Play.  
And then he’d gone and blocked a shot with his goddamned hand, and in practice of all places. And he hadn’t even fucking meant to. Of all the ways he might have gotten himself hurt. Not a check, not even a goddamn game. He’d fought in a game earlier that week, split his lip and his knuckles. Nothing there.  
But being in the wrong place, at the wrong time in practice and bam.

Scratched. Not forever, but still.

It wasn’t huge. He didn’t need surgery or anything, but his hand was wrapped up, one of fingers swollen to frankly obscene proportions. It was all purple too. Disgusting. And he couldn’t play. _For a couple of weeks_ , they said. _Rest up_. Matt didn’t want to think about missing games. Sure, he wanted to prove to the team that he was worth the roster space, of course, but if he thought too hard about it… well, that stuff didn’t exactly boost morale. 

When you play, you get to know the new team. Get to fall into rhythm with them. Get a feel for them. The hardest part of moving was leaving the old team behind. It always was. Because the team wasn’t just coworkers, it was never just a job. Team is family. They’d all been family.  
And Mitch… well.  
Matt had done his best to do so during training camp during summer. He’d given his all in the early practices and the first handful of games. And he did love the Islanders. After all he’d been an Islander first. And for a full 7 years. Sure, the roster looked a little different now. Matt snorted as he thought it. But he knew getting New York to feel like home again wouldn’t be too hard. He loved it there. But he did have to get to know them all, all over again, and it was a process nonetheless. And now that process had now been halted, and there was nothing he could do but wait. It was frustrating. Infuriating. Matt was restless. Suddenly, the team had to wait. Training had to wait. Matt had to wait. Waiting was lonely. Not playing was lonely. The new city was lonely. Even though it wasn’t even all that new.

And maybe, and Matt had tried not to dwell on it because it was a waste of time, but maybe he missed being touched. Touched in a way that wasn’t violent or competitive. He missed tenderness. He didn’t know the guys on this team that well yet. Didn’t know them like that. He missed affection. He suddenly thought of the times when Mitch had curled up against him to nap, like a cat. Mitch was a lot smaller then Matt was, so he fit fine. Yeah. This train of though was definitely a waste of time.

Matt’s hand would be fine by the time they’d meet the Maple Leafs for their first game of the season. It was still a while from now. Playing an old team was weird. Seeing the guys he’d been playing with, practicing with, living with, and playing against them and not for them. Weird. That was the best word for it. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. probably wouldn’t know how he felt until he was standing there on the ice with them.

Matt had already eaten dinner, but it was late enough now that he was getting hungry again.

Matt had known. He’d known his time with the Leafs was, well, not borrowed, but the last season especially… It wasn’t something they talked about. There was speculation of course. No one wanted to say anything. No one was going to tell Matt to his face that they thought he was going to get sent down. And no one knew for sure that that was going to happen. And it hadn’t. This happened instead. It might be better, Matt didn’t know, it was different.  
No, that’s not true. This was better. He’d get to keep playing at this level. He’d see the guys on the ice. Huh. The guys. He’d known _something_ was about to happen. He’d had a feeling. Whatever. 

Mitch. He was just a kid, really. God, he’d only been 11 the year Matt was drafted, a full decade ago. Felt like an eternity. That was also something Matt usually tried not to think too hard about. And he was such a pain in the ass. He was too much. He was Mitch. They’d come to Toronto at the same time. They’d settled in together.  
Matt had been worried Mitch wouldn’t take it well, Matt leaving. He hadn’t known if he should reach out. He didn’t know what would help him more. Letting the kid move on, or letting him know Matt hadn’t forgotten about him. So he hadn’t really done anything.  
Matt wasn’t the type to just bail. Leave everyone behind. Mitch wouldn’t think that’s what he’d done. 

Would he?

Mitch had Auston, though, and they were real close, and Nylander too, and the other kids. Good kids. Really good. And they were good together too. They were going to shine. Matt couldn’t wait to see it. He could settle for not being part of it as long as he got to see. Mitch would be fine. Matt sighed. Mitch would be fine. Mitch and his entourage of young guns. He really had friends everywhere.

He’d been explosive right from the start. He was going places. And he was only just beginning. The kid hadn’t even reached his prime. And Matt was, well. Mitch’s prime was going to look a lot different that Matt’s had. Hell, Mitch’s goddamn rookie season looked a lot different from Matt’s prime. That kid, he was really going places, there was absolutely no denying that. It had made Matt want to be better. 

Mitch had come to Matt a lot, for companionship, for advice (not that that he ever listened to any of it), for someone to lean on. And all that, Matt could help with. But his game, he didn’t have much to offer Mitch. Matt was a grinder. He’d been called an enforcer, which he supposed he was. And he was good. He was playing in the fucking NHL after all, but Mitch. His game was completely different. Everything that Matt never was. Mitch was a star. He was smaller. Nimble. Nifty. He was fast. He put up points. And he’d be fine. With or without Matt. He was a kid living a dream. Some old asshole leaving town wasn’t going to knock him out. Matt was picking mindlessly at the bandage on has hand. He couldn’t reach the spot under it that was itching and it charged his entire body with restless energy, so he had to bounce his leg.  
He could go for a run.  
Didn’t need hands to run.  
He stayed where he was.

It was getting sort of late. But Mitch was never the type to clock out early, Matt would probably be able to get a hold of him still. Matt hadn’t meant to avoid Mitch after he found out. About the trade. They just hadn’t really had time to meet up. Offseason schedules clashed. Training and all that. Family time. Vacation. It was what it was. And it wasn’t that they hadn’t talked since he moved. They had. They’d texted. They’d been on each other’s social media accounts, Instagram, twitter, liked posts, left comments. And the months had passed. That was just how it went. Life went on. Matt didn’t think too hard about it.

So yeah, maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the restlessness from not being able to take his energy out on the ice right now, maybe it was all the shit he kept reminding himself not to think too hard about. Matt was antsy tonight. He felt off. Like he needed to do something. Like he didn’t quite fit right inside himself. Like having put his clothes on the wrong way. He felt too heavy. Too itchy. Too stuffy in his minimalist apartment. And he couldn’t get Mitch off his mind. Mitch dancing, like an idiot, in the locker room, at home, when they were out. Mitch with his mouth guard hanging out the side of his mouth, chewing thoughtlessly on it. Mitch’s stupid adolescent arrogance. His absolutely atrocious taste in music. His tattoos. His constant smile, toothy and crooked. His total shamelessness. His disregard for personal boundaries. His dumb snapchat filters. His stupid fucking face. 

Matt pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. The material of his bandage rough against his skin. 

New York had stopped feeling like a stop on a road trip by now. Usually on road trips he and Mitch would have gotten dinner and watched a movie. Matt had a new roommate for the road now. Got dinner with the new team. He mostly watched movies on his own. He sometimes texted Mitch about them. They watched different movies now. Matt couldn’t get mad at Mitch for watching ones they’d talking about seeing together without him anymore. Whatever.  
Matt thought about Mitch’s relentless jokes. About the ridiculous glint in his eye. His small but lean body. The way he fit against Matt’s larger frame. The warmth of him. Mitch felt like he ran several degrees hotter than the average person. To be fair, Mitch was not the average person. He was Mitch Marner. He was something else.

Matt wasn’t sure why tonight seemed like the right time to call. Why right now was so much better than any other given point in time. And really, it wasn’t. But suddenly he felt, well, he felt like he had to. He had to call. He had to talk. Talk, not text. And with Mitch. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say – he figured he’d figure it out as he went – he only knew that he wanted to hear his voice.  
So Matt picked up his phone with his good hand.

It only took Mitch not answering on the first ring for Matt to have the darting thought that he might not answer at all. But then he did.

“Matty?” was the first and only thing Mitch said just when he picked up, in a tone like he didn’t really think it was actually him.

“Mitch,” Matt said.

“Hey, Matt, hey, it’s been a while, what’s up?” he sounded like he thought Matt had news, like something might be wrong. Matt didn’t like that he thought that.

“Yeah I know, I’m sorry, and nothing, it’s nothing, I just thought I’d, you know, call… catch up, I guess.” Had it really been so long that Mitch thought Matt would only call if something was wrong? He should have called sooner.

“Yeah, yeah of course, hey, no problem, man, so how’s, uh, what’s up? how are you doing?”

“I’m good, man,” Matt said, because no way in hell he was laying it all out like that after ten seconds of conversation after not having talked for real for months.

“How’s New York?” Mitch asked.

“It’s New York, it’s good, the guys here, they’re good, that Trotz might really on to something.”

“No shit?”

“Mhm, I think we could do something good here.”

“Hah, not too good hopefully.”

“Real funny, Marner.”

“Always,” said Mitch, and he was smiling at his own joke. Matt could hear it in his voice, and he could picture Mitch’s big stupid toothy grin. “How’s the hand?” Mitch asked then. He might have seen a headline somewhere. Matt’s minor injury wouldn’t have made front page news anywhere that anyone would see it unless they went looking for it. Matt smiled to himself.

“It’s alright,” he said.

“Really?”

“Well, no, obviously not, but it will be.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah, I think so, it’s not a big deal.”

“’Course not, big guy.” If Mitch was there he would have been shoved off the couch. Or actually, if Mitch had been there _right now_ he might have gotten a pass this once. Matt would have liked the company. He wouldn’t have minded the weight of Mitch settling against him. He might still have gotten the shove though if he elbowed Matt in the stomach while trying to get comfortable as he sometimes did. No passes for that, no matter how quiet or lonely the apartment felt without him. Mitch was so damn loud. Matt hadn’t thought he was into loud. But right now, he’d take loud over this. 

“So, um, how is everyone? How are you?” Matt asked, trying to keep the conversation alive. One would think after time apart they should have _more_ to talk about, but Matt found that often, the opposite was the case. He didn’t like that.

“Everybody’s good,” Mitch said, drawling on the good.

“And Tavares?”

“Hah! He’s _really_ good.”

“And you?”

“Yeah, man, I’m good.”

“Good, right, you holding up alright without me around to fight for ya?”

“Hilarious, Martin.”

“Hey, I can be funny too.”

“Sure thing, old man.”

“I just wanted… well, I wanted to let you know, you know, I’m, I guess, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.”

“Hey, it’s cool, man, new season, everybody’s busy.”

“I know, I know, it’s just, I could have called earlier, nobody’s too busy for a phone call.” Matt paused, and Mitch might have felt that he wasn’t done, because he didn’t interrupt, “and I wanted you to know that, well, I didn’t forget about you– about you guys.”

“Yeah, the guys…”

“And you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, I… I think about you, too, I didn’t forget about you. I didn’t just… move on, or whatever.” Matt took a breath. “I think about you.”

“Yeah… yeah, alright,” was all Mitch said after a moment, and both were quiet for a moment. Then Mitch spoke again: “When you got a couple of days off…”

“Yeah?”

“You could take a trip up, I mean, the boys miss you, they’d love to see you.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, totally.” 

“’The boys’?”

“Yeah.”

Matt put the call on speaker and got up, he brought the phone to the kitchen and put it down on the counter, and he got himself a glass of water. 

“Hey, Matty,” Mitch said. 

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, I miss you, I guess.” Ah. Matt didn’t know he’d been waiting for him to say it till he had. He felt lighter suddenly. Head less heavy, hand under the bandage less itchy, apartment less stuffy. Mitch and Matt had said stuff this to each other before. Said they loved each other, missed each other, but it had always been jokingly, they hadn’t really meant it. Or, they had meant it, but never as much as they did now. That was one of the stupid things about talking, the more you meant something the harder it was to say. Fucked up really if you thought about it.

Matt put his glass down on the counter next to his phone and he leaned down to rest his against elbows on the countertop. He thought about getting a beer from the fridge but decided against it.

“Yeah, bud, I miss you too,” he said.

“Yeah?” And of course, now would be when Mitch had to make sure that Matt really did mean it. The more you wanted to hear something the less you believed it when you actually heard it. Didn’t make a goddamn lick of sense.

“Yeah, I miss you.” He said it again to make sure Mitch knew he meant it. _I miss you._ Matt sighed. _And you miss me_. There. Now that was out of the way. He cleared his throat. 

“Did you– did you really cry?” this was half a jab half just to say something.

“What? When?”

“I saw your comments,” Matt was smirking as he said it. “You did, didn’t you?”

“Why the hell would I do that, you arrogant asshole?”

“Cus you’re sensitive, _asshole_.” He was. Even though this delivery perhaps wasn’t the most sensitive. Mitch could take it.

“Coulda been tears of joy for all you know.”

“I thought you said you missed me!”

“Fuck you, dude.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing!” Matt took a breath. Then he continued, “and, well, because I did,” he said. “I mean, I got, you know…”

“Wait, what?”

“I, uh, I did, I mean, I have.” This was weird to say. But he knew Mitch, and he wanted Mitch to know, for some reason. “It’s okay.” Mitch didn’t say anything. “Leaving, it’s, you know, it always messes you up a little bit, moving, whatever.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m good, I really like it here, I do.”

“Yeah?”

“But, you know, I liked Toronto a lot too.” He took a drink from his glass before continuing. “Moving’s always weird, even when it’s good.”

“I guess.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Mitch cleared his throat then. 

“Well, it’s– it was real good to hear your voice,” Matt said.

“Yours too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

“That’s okay.”

“Call me soon, okay?”

“I will.”

“See ya, Marner.”

“Bye, Matty.”

Neither hung up immediately. Matt emptied his glass into the sink and went back into the living room and slouched back down on the couch, call still going.  
Then Mitch spoke.

“Matty?” 

“Yeah, bud?”

“I… Can I, like, call you?”

“When?”

“Just like, whenever?”

“Mitch, yeah, of course, you can call me any time.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely, buddy, always.”

“Alright.”

“Yeah, I’m serious, Mitch, you can always call me, if there’s anything,” said Matt, and then added, “also if there isn’t anything, if you just wanna, you know… whatever.”

“Yeah, okay.” Mitch said. “And you can call me too, you know, whenever.”

“Good.”

“Good.

“Right.”

“Right, talk to you later.”

It was Matt who hung up first. It felt like the responsible thing to do. For some odd reason. That was the thing. Mitch made Matt want to act stupid and childish, but he also made him want to be responsible. He wanted to take care of him. Not that Mitch needed taking care of, but still. 

No point agonizing. Nothing was lost, just different. Mitch was just a phone call away. Matt would be fine. He’d be better than fine. He’d be good. Matt threw his phone onto the cushion next to him. Mitch felt closer and farther away at the same time. It made Matt want to reach out for him, stupidly. 

He couldn’t help but feel like the conversation had ended too soon. Where he, when he’d first dialed Mitch’s number, couldn’t think of what he might say, his head was now flush with things he wanted to talk about. It was late. He’d call Mitch up again soon. He might write down the things he wanted to say. Matt looked at his phone as it lay screen down on the couch. As if on cue it started vibrating. Matt picked it up and turned it over in his hand. He cracked a smile. He touched the screen up pick up the call.

“Miss me again already, Marner?”

“Yeah, just can’t get enough of, ya old fart.” And Matt tried not to laugh, to play offended, and failed. Mitch laughed too.

“Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

“How’s your mom?”

“Won’t shut up about you.”

“Tell Bonnie I love her too.”

“Shut up, Marts, I just remembered something–”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say–”

“Yeah?

“I wanted to ask you to shut the hell up when I’m trying to say something!”

“Jeez, sorry! Go, say your thing.”

“How’s Jax?”

“Dyin’ without you.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

Matt didn’t think that that was the thing he’d wanted to say so he waited. There was a brief moment of silence as Mitch fished for his words, and then further, as he reeled them to the surface. Finally, he sucked in a breath to speak.

“I just wanted to say, well, that, I guess, it’s weird here too, you know, without you, I mean I know, two years isn’t a lifetime, but I had to like, figure shit out, without you or whatever.” Mitch gave a halfhearted laugh. “I mean you wouldn’t get it, cus your old as dirt, but I haven’t, you know, been a Leaf without you, you were there from the beginning.”

“Charming, I wasn’t a Leaf without you either, you know.”

“Yeah, but you played in New York forever before coming here.”

“I don’t know about forever.”

“It was forever.” Making fun of Matt for being a full eight years older than himself brought Mitch an exquisite kind of joy, and Matt usually indulged him by pretending to be offended by it. Mitch loved it. It was also a brand of humor that Mitch could always fall back on if he didn’t know how to go about saying something. “Anyway, you had some shit figured out by then, but I didn’t know what I was doing.” Matt had really made an effort then. He’d really done his best. He felt good that it had paid off. He just wanted to be good for the young guys. Good for Mitch. “You,” Mitch cleared his throat once more, “you helped me figure my shit out.” Yeah. Absolutely worth it all. That’s not what Matt said though.

“All I did was let you nap on me.” Gladly. Warm. Comfortable. Home. 

“Cus you’re so soft.”

“Mitchie, harsh.” This time Mitch laughed for real. Matt felt his chest get warm with an unexpected fondness. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I said I’m good.”

“I know, I heard you, but I mean, you could be bullshitting me, for all I know _good_ ’s no better than _fine_ , would you– would you tell me if you weren’t, you know, _good_?” Matt wasn’t sure why he was saying this. It wasn’t like Mitch was a gloomy guy, in fact, Mitch seemed like he was always having fun, he was always so good. Like every fucking day was the best day of his life. But it felt important to say nonetheless. Maybe because of the distance, maybe something else. 

“I… well, I mean, yeah, yes, I would, I will.” Mitch said, seeming as surprised by his own earnest response as the question itself.

“ _Good._ ” Matt nodded even though there was no one around to see it. “Cus I might not be in your face, defending your honor, you know, cleaning up your shit–”

“ _Hey!_ ”

“– but I’m still there, I’m still here, I meant it when I said call me, I…”

“You what?”

“All I’m saying is you ain’t getting rid of me that easy.”

“Well, _fuck,_ ” Mitch said, and they both laughed. Mitch’s laugh made Matt snort, which only made Mitch laugh harder. Only when he was almost out of breath, Mitch sighed and continued: “I never, I don’t think I ever told you… You, uh, you really helped me a lot, when I, you know, first got here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean and not just in the beginning I mean.”

“You really suck at this.”

“Shut up, you dick, I’m trying here!”

“I suck too, we suck at this.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole!”

“Hey listen, I’m just saying…”

“You’re saying jack shit, dude–”

“I’m saying, we don’t, I think we’d suck less if we did this more.”

“Did what more?” 

“This, you know…”

“What’s this?”

“Talk, we should talk.”

“We are talking right now.”

“We should talk more, get good.”

“You get good, grandpa, I’m perfect.”

“And cocky. I’m saying, I meant it when I said call, you should call me, and I’ll call you.” Matt was making the closest thing he knew how to, to a bold proclamation, all there was left to do now was to tie it off in a pretty bow. “We could make this work.” There.

“This?” asked Mitch.

“ _This_.”

“Yeah.” Matt was pretty sure Mitch understood. “Yeah,” Mitch said again.

“I mean… you know what I mean…”  
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Mitch said. Then his tone changed, got a little higher, “hey,” he said, “I, uh, I got new ink.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“What? Why not?”

“Cus you didn’t post a picture anywhere.”

“Hah hah, it’s still healing.”

“You gonna show me a picture?”

“Hmmm, I think no.”

“Then why tell me, asshole?”

“I don’t know.” Matt could hear the smile in Mitch’s voice again. “I guess you just have to come up and see it for yourself.”

“Whatever, diva, I know you just wanna see me.”

“You don’t know shit.” God, he was so fucking annoying.

“You with the boys right now?” Matt asked.

“Not now, I was earlier, went out with Auston, dinner and that.”

“And he’s good?”

“Yeah I think so.”

“Back on top?”

“As good as.”

“That’s good.”

“Hey, it’s getting’ pretty late, isn’t it, like, way past your bedtime?”

“I could ask you the same, _kid._ ”

“ _You_ called me, _geriatric_.”

“And _you_ called me back,” Matt pointed out. “Don’t you have practice in the morning?”

“Don’t you?”

“Good point.”

“Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.”

“Hang up!”

“Mitch.”

“Yes?”

“Call me.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good.” Right. This was more like the conversation he’d wanted to have. “Goodnight, Mitchell.” Mitch barked. A single laugh. Matt really liked the sound of it.

“Night, _Matthew_.” It was Mitch who hung up this time and the call cut off right in the middle of Mitch making that sound he made when he thought he was being particularly funny.  
Matt realized that he was smiling and he put his phone down. And he kept smiling as he got undressed and washed his face and brushed his teeth. 

He when to bed, finally. And he slept. He slept better than he had in a while. He slept so well that he realized he hadn’t been sleeping well at all for months. He felt new. He felt good. He’d be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I know very little, so I make up a lot.
> 
> Asshole count: 8
> 
>  
> 
> Sequel to follow
> 
>  
> 
> (I'm on tumblr @ barebevil and on twitter @ kittynorville)


End file.
